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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516833">Dépaysement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna1120/pseuds/Luna1120'>Luna1120</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna1120/pseuds/Luna1120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Malfoy…”</p><p>“Golden Girl.” The nickname of the tabloids set her mouth in an unhappy frown. His words were soft even in the quiet, a whisper. “Come for a bit of fun?” She wanted to fire back at him, but the hoarseness of his voice unsteadied her.  </p><p>Seeing him this way made Hermione uncomfortable, acutely aware that she hadn’t anticipated feeling bad when she saw him. She expected to be engulfed in flames of rage, standing tall in front of him as she demanded answers and retribution for the attempted murder of Dumbledore. Even if he hadn’t landed the killing curse, the pity brewing deep in her throat felt unexpected. Her lips quivered as she held them tightly, not trusting herself to speak to the ghost of her bully. </p><p>He cracked an eye up at her and winced, as if he were looking up at the sun for the first time in a long time. “Pity looks awful on you. Even worse than usual.” His tone was flat and annoyed.</p><p>Aha, there he was. </p><p>“Funny, I’d say Azkaban doesn’t suit you much either.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just something I've been plotting out for a little while. Hope you enjoy~ &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wand, please.” Hermione grabbed nervously at the wand tucked away in her robe’s pocket, gripping it with a death vice before handing it over to the Azkaban guard. She flashed him what must’ve been a panicked look because he chuckled softly before murmuring, “All part of the process.” </p><p>“Ah - yes, I suppose it is.” She flushed softly in her cheeks, she could feel the heat radiating off of them as she mustered her best smile. </p><p>“It’s always nerve wracking the first time, love. Who are you here to see?”</p><p>“My appointment is with Draco Malfoy.” The guards eyebrows popped up. Her words felt firm as she said them, but she trembled underneath her robes and tried to steady the tips of her fingers so she didn’t give herself away. </p><p>He appraised her thoughtfully and she wished she could laugh and commiserate, <em>I’m just as surprised as you are</em>. But she did her best to keep her face forward, confident, cool, collected - all attributes she was ironically happier to attribute to Malfoy than to herself. </p><p>McGonagall had assured her in good confidence that she must reach out to Malfoy, must see him in person, and must request that he leave with her. Hermione had raged against her professor, uncharacteristically mistrusting. </p><p>
  <em>“Malfoy?” Hermoine spit the word out as if it tasted bad on her tongue, “You realize who you’re asking for, professor? He killed Dumbledore, used an unforgivable curse, and you’d like me to go traipsing about with him as if I’m on holiday?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>McGonagall held her face, revealing nothing. “He didn’t kill him, Hermione. Snape did.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione gawked dumbly, her mouth open and her breathing ragged. She was sure her messy hair made her look even more heated and frantic as she paced in McGonagall’s Hogwarts office. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s impossible, he’s been put in Azkaban for killing Dumbledore. They watched his memories, they saw it, they-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mr. Malfoy was trained by Snape in occlumency, he showed the trial what he wanted to show them.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt empty, shocked to her core that it was Snape who pulled the death blow. “How do you know this? I thought Snape was on our side, I thought he was a part of the Order.” Everything from the trial she had trusted, everything she had read hungrily in the papers now tasted like soot. The Malfoy boy put himself on Voldemort’s radar by killing Dumbledore, the young Death Eater eager to prove himself to the Dark Lord. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I need you to trust I’ve seen the memories.” McGonagall was unrelenting, “He failed his mission, Hermione. He failed He Who Shall Not Be Named.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why would he lie?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hopeful that he’d be given the opportunity to fade away in Azkaban instead of facing the Cruciatus Curse, I’m sure.” McGonagall’s eyes fell dark. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So what, we’re supposed to just trust him now?” Hermione wracked her brain for a better alternative, one that didn’t require her to ever come eye-to-eye with Malfoy again. “It seems too soon, why can’t we leave him in there and revisit this when the war is over?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>McGonagall breathed deeply, finally softening to Hermione’s panic. “Hermione, I need you to trust me. I have this on good authority that he may have information for us, he may be able to help you find the Horcruxes. He Who Shall Not Be Named has resided in his family’s manor for the past year, he must’ve seen something. Anything.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t you trust Harry and Ron to find them without him? Don’t you trust me, professor?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I trust all three of you immensely. But this is war, we cannot afford ourselves the luxury of trust.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And why me? Why does he have to accompany me?” Hermione felt suddenly bereft, alone. Her heart hammering in her chest so loudly she worried McGonagall would hear it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The softening in McGonagall’s face only increased, warm eyes staring into Hermoine’s franticly searching ones. “I wouldn’t give this to just anyone, Hermione. I know you can hide the both of you, I know that you can help Harry and Ron this way. I know you can do it, and I know you can protect yourself against-” The word ‘him’ nearly dropped into the conversation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione’s face betrayed her, the deep hurt stinging. “So you know he may hurt me. He hates me, Professor, he truly hates me. He and his family want people like me on a registry. He wants people like me dead.” Her heart felt as if it had been wrenched open, and as much as she tried to reason with the professor her orders were staunch and set in place. There was no convincing McGonagall otherwise, and she felt the pressure of the Order pressing fervently against her. If she were to believe in the cause, believe in the Order, she would accept this assignment with a firm nod. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But tears pricked at her eyes as she tried pathetically to talk McGonagall through each potential way this horrible partnership could end. He could torture her, crucio her until her bones popped and she died of suffocation. He could imperio her, force her to walk into McGonagall’s familiar, warm, glowing office and commit the ultimate sin of magic. He could throw a bright green stream of light her way while yawning, the twist of his wrist lazy as he stole her breath from her lungs. </em>
</p><p>Hermione was trailing the guard closely even as her mind wandered, her nerves haywire. She could feel her brain cataloging everything as she went, nervously sorting information in the bookshelves of her brain. </p><p>What would it be like to see him again? Would he still look haughty, indignant, and pleased with himself? That’s the way she remembered him best, sitting with a satisfied smirk in his desk, chair popped up to teeter on two hind legs as he balanced himself. It didn’t take many words for him to control the room, a hissed “Mudblood” usually did the job. White teeth glinted in a cruel smile as if he were more wolf than human. </p><p>A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as they rounded corners, her demure shoes clicking along the way like an anxious metronome. </p><p>The guard brought her to his cell and gestured at her to step aside as he waved his wand wordlessly across the door that had no lock, no handle, and no window. The stones shifted, rippling gracefully to pull back a confined space she could walk through. She glanced at the guard who assured her, “He can’t use no magic in there, love. He can barely stand as it is.” His eyes revealed tracks of concern in the deep creases at his eyes, but she gave him a tight smile and nod before turning to the door with finality. </p><p>The cell was small, empty. She could only assume he didn’t spend most of his time here, perhaps this was a meeting room instead. She had hoped there would be shackles chaining him to the wall, pulling him back from where she was sure he’d be snarling with hate and dark magic. But all that resided in the cramped room was a thin body sat gracelessly against the wall. He had the same shock of white hair she remembered, same smooth skin, but his shoulders drooped and his face looked serene as if he slept. She heard the wall solidify once more behind her and she took a shaky breath, coughing to announce her presence.</p><p>If he was interested in who his visitor was, it didn’t show on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, unused to the dull light of the room, and his head leaned back against the wall. </p><p>He looked grimy, his white hair matted to his forehead and his skin ashen. This was not the boy she remembered from school, if anything it was his corpse. </p><p>“Malfoy…” She introduced herself.</p><p>“Golden Girl.” The nickname of the tabloids set her mouth in an unhappy frown. His words were soft even in the quiet, a whisper. “Come for a bit of fun?” She wanted to fire back at him, but the hoarseness of his voice unsteadied her.  </p><p>Seeing him this way made Hermione uncomfortable, acutely aware that she hadn’t anticipated feeling bad when she saw him. She expected to be engulfed in flames of rage, standing tall in front of him as she demanded answers and retribution for the attempted murder of Dumbledore. Even if he hadn’t landed the killing curse, the pity brewing deep in her throat felt unexpected. Her lips quivered as she held them tightly, not trusting herself to speak to the ghost of her bully. </p><p>He cracked an eye up at her and winced, as if he were looking up at the sun for the first time in a long time. “Pity looks awful on you. Even worse than usual.” His tone was flat and annoyed.</p><p>Aha, there he was. </p><p>“Funny, I’d say Azkaban doesn’t suit you much either.” The familiar fire from before flickered back to light as she scowled down at him. </p><p>He closed his eyes again but a frown sat smartly on his lips. “What the fuck could you possibly want?” </p><p>“Answers.” </p><p>She half expected this to get a rise out of him, but he kept breathing slowly. The only clue he heard her was the cracking of his knuckles in response, loud pops that filled the cold space between them. </p><p>“Such the Gryffindor, you think I’ll tell you what you want to hear?” His smirk turned into a self congratulatory smile, “Just ‘cause you’ve got me here doesn’t mean I’ll tell you anything. I’m not quite as pathetic as you lot.” </p><p>She fumed softly, “I don’t think you have much of a choice, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Entertain me.” He rolled his shoulders and opened his grey eyes to look up at her mockingly, expectantly. In another world she might have blushed. </p><p>As soon as his eyes were on her face he was alive once more, taunting once more, every bit as smug as he had been the last time she saw him. Gone was the pathetic corpse hunkered against the wall, too tired to open his eyes. Suddenly they were both 15 again and he had just called her a <em>Mudblood</em> across the classroom, eyes laughing at her. She could picture him nudging one of his cronies, Crab or Goyle, and they’d join in by laughing loudly. But he never had to laugh, not really, his eyes did it all for him. </p><p>A pang of anger gripped Hermione’s heart as she explained between gritted teeth, “I’ll hardly be entertaining you.”</p><p>“Pity.” Another private joke at her expense.</p><p>“But if you want to leave here, I’d humor me.” She did her best to feign a sweet voice, “Of course, that’s only if Azkaban hasn’t grown on you yet. I hear it becomes popular with inmates over time.” She blinked softly at him, her own smirk playing at her lips as the joke in his eyes crumbled to a steely glare. </p><p>“Joke’s over, Mudblood.” Ah, yes, that term of endearment she had so missed. It sent an angry tingle down her spine as her own joke died and she returned his glare. “Don’t play with me, I know I’m never walking out of here alive as long as your Order has anything to do with it.” He braced himself against the wall. Even only at partial height he loomed menacingly, not to be underestimated. </p><p>Pushing back the retort already springing to life in her brain, “I’m serious. I can get you out of here.” </p><p>“Why would Potter’s Golden Girl do that?”</p><p>Again, that nickname. He could tell she hated it. </p><p>“Are you really in a position to question my motivations? You look like you can barely stand.” Hermione straightened her back. “You’re dying.”</p><p>He chuckled humorlessly, “And you think I’m dumb enough to think you care? I always pictured you as the first to dance on my grave, Granger.”</p><p>She glanced away, “I wouldn’t have.” </p><p>“How considerate of you, really.” The joke was gone and again they were two enemies staring daggers at one another.</p><p>“I know you didn’t kill him. I know it was Snape.”</p><p>A tight lipped smile, “So am I forgiven, then? Absolved of my sins?” </p><p>“Hardly. But you could try.” </p><p>He took a deep breath, his fist curling and uncurling as he stared at her. “What are you looking for?”</p><p>“I need to know why… Before I help you, I need to know why you didn’t do it.” She was going off script, she knew it, but if she was to leave with him she had to be sure McGonagall was right. Even she could have made a mistake, read the memory wrong, had a poor informant. It was Hermione’s job to parse that out here and now.</p><p>“Do you know what it’s like to get the Dark Mark, Granger?” His eyes slanted at her and she shook her head quickly. “You think I chose to do it? You think I lined up at His front door and dropped to my knees to beg? Really, I thought you were the smartest witch of our age, can you picture me begging for anything?” The idea tugged at her stomach, a small knot forming deep within her. The feeling of tightness felt foreign. He straightened his back and stood to his full height, pushing the long hair out of his eyes like he used to do when they were younger. “I didn’t choose my assignments, much like I’m sure you don’t choose yours. Or do you usually find yourself at Azkaban?” </p><p>“I suppose I don’t.” She took a shaky, full breath, “But if you didn’t want to be a Death Eater, didn’t want to kill-”</p><p>He interrupted her roughly, “I should have been the one to kill him, don’t forgive me too quickly.” He bit out his words, “I wanted to be the one to kill him. I wanted to.”</p><p>“But you didn’t…” She regarded him cautiously. </p><p>“Obviously not.” He turned away from her now, finally giving her reprieve from his staring eyes. “I won’t beg for forgiveness when I fully intended to kill him that night.”</p><p>“But, my question still stands. Why didn’t you, if you wanted it that badly?”</p><p>He stood very still, and it took everything in Hermione not to rush at him with words to fill the rift ripping between them. “I don’t know.” His words were staccato against his lips, unyielding. </p><p>“I think you’re lying.”</p><p>He turned slowly again and sunk back down to sit where he was when she entered, “Fine, then. I’m lying.” Disinterested now. </p><p>Hermione pulled her lip between her teeth as she swept over him once more. Her task at hand was to determine if they could release him alongside her, if he was a liability, if Dumbledore and McGonagall were wrong. </p><p>“You don’t want to get out?”</p><p>“I don’t deserve to get out, Granger.” </p><p>“I can’t say I remember you talking much about what you deserved back in the day.”</p><p>He waved his hand dismissively, “Character growth and all that shit.” </p><p>“Hardly.” </p><p>Hermione Granger was not a stupid girl, even at the worst of times she was astute and decisive. At the best of times she was sharp-witted, shrewd, and her perception could sting like the edge of broken glass. She hovered at the edge of a decision, at the precipice that was suddenly becoming too large even for her mind. Was this the empathy he had teased her for when she was a child, the muggle in her heart unable to let go of hope? She swallowed dryly. She could almost picture him, 11, sitting on the ground scowling because his house lost the quidditch tournament. Even now, with his tired and sunken eyes closed, the smirk looked so familiar that it almost hurt her to look at. </p><p>She took a measured step towards him. “I need your help whether you like it or not.”</p><p>His eyes narrowed to slits, “There it is.” He took in a sharp breath, “That bullshit honesty you Gryffindors love to choke on.”</p><p>“My assignment is to bring you with me as I search for clues to help Harry and Ron.” His eyebrows creased into a deep “v” when she said their names. </p><p>“What makes you think I won’t try and kill you next?” </p><p>“That’s simple, I won’t let you.”</p><p>He laughed again, a quick crack of sound. “People don’t often let you kill them, Granger. You’ll do well to remember that.”</p><p>She pushed past his warning, eager to spit out the words. “Regardless, I’d wager it’s safer to have me alive and hiding you than to brave him.” She lingered on the the last syllable, her voice dropping. “I have good information that you are someone who can help me with what I’m looking for.”</p><p>“And what would that be?” She stalled, lips tight again, “How convenient, let me guess - you can’t tell me. Just supposed to jump me out of jail to go on a nameless adventure with you?” He grimaced as if the prospect was worse than wasting away in prison. “Your lot can never win the war.”</p><p>Hermione bristled, “If you think I’m a fan of this, you’re wrong.” </p><p>“So now you’re good at taking orders?” </p><p>“Stop it.” Her voice dared him to keep pushing, her fingers shaking as she knotted them together. “Either you’re in or not, don’t play with me. I’m more than happy to let you rot here, I’m happy to remember you like this.” </p><p>Again the pop of his knuckles echoed between them and for a moment she thought he had decided to give her the silent treatment. Just as she was ready to turn on her heal, embarrassed heat collecting at her collar at the prospect of failing, he spoke resolutely with a deep, husky voice. “When can I get out of here?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello~ This chapter is a bit shorter, forgive me. I set them up in Azkaban and then had to think about how the hell to get them out... Oops.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“But how?” Hermione’s pacing had stopped, “If I were to go through with this masochistic scheme, how would I get him out? Sirius was an animagus, so unless you’re about to drop on me that Draco Malfoy turns into a white weasel at night I don’t see how it can be done.”</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>McGonagall leaned and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, tapping on it twice with the tip of her wand. “You’ll use-</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-This.” She held out her hand, feigning confidence. In it was a 10” hawthorn wood wand with unicorn hair core. “Reasonably springy.”</p>
  <p>His eyes turned dark, “Is that my wand, Granger?”</p>
  <p>“I have to admit, I was surprised to find a core of unicorn hair.” Her lips quirked into a triumphant grin. “Not very scary of you, is it?”</p>
  <p>A low sound thrummed from the back of his throat, “Give it to me and let’s see how scary I can be.” He pushed himself up with his legs, back dragging against the stone wall.</p>
  <p>Unicorn hair was rare among Death Eaters, one of the hardest materials to adapt to preforming the Dark Arts. Hermione would have guessed dragon heart-string or phoenix feather, something more adaptable and suited to performing the unforgivable curses. “I’m surprised you even managed Dark Magic with this.” The wand hummed in her hand as she clutched its hilt, the magic responding to Malfoy’s proximity. He made a jerky movement as if to grab it from her hands, but his muscles were groggier than hers and she snapped back with ease. </p>
  <p>“Let’s just say I’m determined.” He glowered at her. “Give it here.”</p>
  <p>“As if, Malfoy.” Her dramatic eye roll was audible with the way her words dripped from her mouth.</p>
  <p>“I’ve changed my mind, Granger. Get fucked, I’d rather die here.”</p>
  <p>A quick huff, “Don’t be ridiculous."</p>
  <p>He was gasping for breath, lunging once more at her to grab at the wand. It looked like it took all his effort to lumber towards her on unsteady feet. A few curses slipped past his tightly pulled lips.  </p>
  <p>If he had been in his right mind she was certain he could’ve easily wrestled the wand from her, he had over a foot on her in height and she stood no chance against him physically. She took a step back but her eyebrows curved with concern. The prospect of being alone with him had frightened her, but now she wondered if he could even hold his own wand let alone curse her with it. His shoulders were rounded and his head hung low from his neck, the deep breaths coming harder now. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What’s happened to you?”</p>
  <p>He raised his eyes to meet hers, “Get close to as many Dementors as I have and see how you’d fair. I’d pay good money to see that.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Charming, really."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Always, Granger." A wistful smile passed his lips and he leaned to brace himself heavily against the cobbled wall. </p>
  <p>“You’re testing my patience.” Her eyes narrowed to slits, determined to shake the pity writhing in her stomach. “I could do worse than leave you here, you know.” The weight of his wand in her hand felt powerful and it responded to her tight grip with waves of jittery magic pushing up her casting arm. "Maybe show your wand some real magic?" </p>
  <p>Draco laughed, standing to full height and flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “Dare you. I don't think Potter's Golden Girl could manage anything more than a stinging hex."</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Again, that sodding nickname</em>. "Stop calling me that." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What, Golden Girl?" He smiled cruelly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm warning you." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Whatever you say, Mudblood." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They glowered at each other, the tension between them crackling. If there were an electrical current running between them Hermione was sure they could've powered all of London with the way their energy snapped angrily at one another. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"This was stupid. Helping you is stupid." Her face began to glow pink, even the tips of her ears felt hot. It was exasperating, pouring in effort just to keep from hexing him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Finally, we agree on something." He tore his gaze from hers and looked down, his grey eyes growing dim without the argument to keep him focused. "Now we get to see just how good of a lap dog you are for your Order."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fire filled her chest, the flames licking at her ribs and throat as she flew towards him. His eyes sparked back up to hers and his pupils grew, almost eclipsing the stormy grey. She acted with jerky motions, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards her. "I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, I will not fail this because <em>you </em>lack the common decency of being grateful to <em>me.</em>"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He stumbled towards her, propelled by her pulling arm, "<em>Grateful-"  </em>His tone was incredulous. Their noses nearly touched as she stood high, jaw jutting up. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yes, grateful." She hissed. "You're still nothing more than a schoolyard bully." She set her face in a determined glare, suddenly he occupied all of her personal space. In another world she would've stuttered as her heart thrummed haphazardly, pouring adrenaline into her jittery veins. The ghost of that adrenaline still coursed through her, her nerves firing sporadically as she shook beneath her robes. Intent to focus on the anger, she kept going. "I'm getting you out of here not because I'm a <em>lap dog</em>, but because it makes me happy to see you need help from a <em>Mudblood.</em>"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His infamous steely glare shot down at her, mouth turned in a snarl. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She gulped down the anxiety bubbling in her chest. She couldn't lose nerve now. Worried her eyes would deceive her, she turned her face towards the wall she originally entered from as she seethed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Before I give you my gratitude, Granger, why don't you share with me how you plan to accomplish your given task?" Sarcasm dropped from his mouth like drops of heavy honey. "You know, the one where you commit a crime by aiding a convicted felon." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm going to walk right out the front door with you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He let out a shocked laugh, "And you called me ridiculous? You've been sent on a suicide mission."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The Dementors are working with He Who Shall Not Be Named, even though the Ministry hasn't fallen I'm confident that their loyalty is with him. You have his Mark, so..." Her eyes dipped to his left arm, covered by a faded long sleeved shirt. She could picture it there, inky and pulsing. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His voice pulled her eyes back up to him, "So you think they'll just let us walk through the front door? I'm not sure my allegiance to Voldemort has quite as much value as it once did." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She shrugged, not wanting to go into further detail. She had shot similar accusations at Professor McGonagall and did her best to imitate the cool confidence she had. "I don't see why not, they're blind." Another steadying breath. "They won't know <em>which</em> Death Eater you are." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If you fuck this up, we both get the Kiss. You get that, right?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She turned her eyes back to him with a set resolve. "I'm smarter than you, obviously I understand what the risks are." She hoped he couldn't see the way her pulse jumped in her neck. She was convincing herself just as much as she was convincing him, and she wasn't sure it was working on either of them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He groaned, rubbing his face roughly with the hand that wasn't in hers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Trust me." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Trust me." McGonagall suddenly looked so tired.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He took a steadying breath and she thought another slicing comment would come, but it didn't. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Okay."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"Okay."</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She nodded her head firmly, eyes set on their exit path. "Stand behind me." She knocked three times on the wall and quickly the stones began moving, resetting themselves to reveal the hidden pathway. She took a quick step ahead into the exit and glanced at Malfoy, motioning quickly to follow. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She peeked out into the grey hallway and saw the pleasant guard standing dutifully, he had waited for her. "Hello, love. Wasn't so bad, was it?" </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She frowned softly and whispered a quick apology before "Stupefy." His body clenched and rigidity set in, eyes still full with shock. He fell to the ground. It was surprising how well Malfoy's wand responded to her, the reaction time almost negligible for it to comply with her spells. Kneeling next to him she quickly obliviated his memories, ripping away the memory of her visit like pages of a book. The metaphor made her stomach sway. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Malfoy stumbled behind her, his eyes wide with shock. "Well, that was illegal. Didn't expect that from the Go-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The Golden Girl, yes I know." She rolled her eyes and finished her spell. "Come up with something new." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If you don't kill us first, maybe I will."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Always the optimist." She pushed herself back up and glanced down the hallway. Eerily quiet, just as McGonagall had assured her it would be. "Come on, I remember the way out." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She gripped his long fingers again and pulled, his body heavy behind her. His steps were sloppy, energy sapped from bickering with her for twenty minutes. Her heart sung wildly as she pulled him along, flipping through the catalog of turns and identical hallways as they fled. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Quickly they were at the entrance she had begun her journey on, left unmanned. A silent 'thank you' rang through her brain. Quickly running behind the station she began rifling through drawers until she found her wand, returning Malfoy's to her pocket. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She turned and her eyes scanned wildly. A twist of her wand and every drawer flew open and then her eyes found it.  The guest log she had signed her name into. As soon as her fingers grasped around it's spine she gasped, white hot pain jumping into her palm. She stretched her fingers slowly, grinding her teeth in pain as a fresh burn bloomed on her fingers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's charmed, you can't touch it." Draco was catching his breath next to her, the veins in his neck prominent as he braced himself on the desk. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've worked that out, thanks." She glared at the document, McGonagall hadn't warned her of this. Possible outcomes raced through her brain and she worked her hand into her tangled hair. "We have to leave it." Another twist of the wand and the drawers slammed shut with finality. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Returning her wand to her pocket, she turned to the exit with her grip back on his wrist. But as she charged forward, certain in her choice, she felt him tug her back forcefully. Bouncing into him she let out a small gasp, surprised. "No."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She glared up at him, her back pressed against his front. His body radiated heat from their quick sprint. "What do you mean 'no'?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"They'll know you're the one who took me." His hand splayed across her ribcage, intent on holding her back. She pushed against him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I can't worry about that right now." Her eyes were focused on her target, the last doorway before they could apparate. "I need to trust the Order will help me." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Trust them?" His tone rose, "Look where they put you." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She shirked out of his grip and pulled at his wrist again, determined. "I trust them." He relented stiffly, allowing her to pull him forward as if he couldn't manage the effort it took to keep her still. Everything in her mind screamed at her to go back, retrace her steps and take him up on his preference of rotting in Azkaban. Stepping into the dry, summer air, that choice was no longer hers. Her gut twisted as she took a deep breath, eyes pricking with tear drops that fell silently onto the straight pass out of Azkaban. Above her floated Dementors, gaping mouths and eyeless faces bleeding into the sky. She couldn't bear to turn her eyes up to them, couldn't bear to know if they had drooped down to bestow the quietest of kisses upon Malfoy. The only indication they hadn't dripped down to them was the noisy steps that followed her closely. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The end of the property line was only ten paces away, her breath coming in pants as she pulled him further with her. Once there, they could apparate away, slide into the growing dusk and fade away from the world. That was what scared her the most. Azkaban she had a plan for, thin as it may have been. The beyond, the months that would follow, were empty pages blotting with ink as soon as the crack of apparition stole them away. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone who commented and left kudos &lt;3 I'm not the best writer, but I love this pairing and it made me so happy that you guys liked the first chapter. I plan on this being a pretty long work, so bear with me on getting to the romance part.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope this chapter finds you well &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The crack of apparition rung three times, Hermione apparating the two of them to three separate locations before stopping. She couldn’t be too careful, she didn’t want anyone to know where she hid them away. </p>
<p>It was growing dark, the heavily wooded hillside she had chosen giving way to little remaining light. She dropped his hand like it stung her, recoiling from his touch. </p>
<p>“Christ, Granger.” Malfoy drew his hand up to his forehead, his eyes wrinkling shut. “Where the hell are we?”</p>
<p>“Away.” She turned towards him, confident her face gave no hint of the tears she had shed at Azkaban. “We’re just… away.” </p>
<p>She half expected him to argue with her, demanding to know which sodding hillside they were standing on, but he didn’t. She watched him dubiously as he gripped his head, taking a half step towards her. He reached out and touched her shoulder, the action sending panic signals into her brain as she drew away. </p>
<p>His arms felt heavy and suddenly the entire weight of him drilled down into her shoulder. She grunted under his body, “What’re you doing?”</p>
<p>His eyes fluttered and he opened his mouth as if to answer. He just kept falling onto her wordlessly, as if the strings holding him up until now were snapping under the strain of the inky night. His limbs were heavy and graceless against her. </p>
<p>“Dammit.” Hermione cursed as she braced herself against him, determined not to drop him. Babysitting was already proving to be more than she thought she could handle, two parts of her soul fighting as she locked an arm under his shoulder to better support his fading presence. </p>
<p><em>Helping him? Let’s do one better and dye his hair black.</em> One side of her crowed gleefully, pleased that the once proud Malfoy was helpless to her. It was suddenly too easy to exact revenge. She could perhaps make him pay for all the times he’d shoved Neville, cursed Ron’s family, or doubted Harry. Perhaps one bee sting spell for every dropped <em>Mudblood</em> from years past.  </p>
<p><em>You promised you’d keep him safe.</em> Echoed the other side, bleating morality until her ears stung hot pink. Duty, honor, morals - all the muggle pieces of her strained against the hexes she could cast. Weakness, perhaps, keening against her better judgment. </p>
<p>Another arm looped around his slim midsection and she groaned, overwhelmed by the weight of him and what to do.</p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for Hermione to set up camp and place wards, what had taken a while was dragging the heavy body of Draco into the tent and up in his cot. He didn’t make a sound as she heaved and sweat over the effort of him. Finally staring down at him, still dressed in thin, gray fabric from Azkaban she wondered if she should do any more. The thought of removing his shirt, dingy as it was, set her cheeks on fire and she thought it best not to touch him any more than necessary.</p>
<p>Looking down at him sleeping he looked more relaxed, more like himself. The strained lines on his pointed face had released and he was once again just Draco Malfoy, not Draco Malfoy the Death Eater. She could picture him in the library, scowling over a textbook, but no real hatred had aged him or weighed him down yet. Still ignorant to the world or either of their places in it, their problems looming in the near future, unrealized. </p>
<p>His lips were parted and he breathed evenly, ignorant to the way Hermione’s brain still scrabbled at ways she could make him regret slipping in front of her. </p>
<p>Scowling but unable to turn away just yet Hermione thought to herself <em>What’ll he think, me putting him to bed? That’ll give him a laugh…</em> She screwed her lips together, unhappy at the thought of his teasing. <em>Weak, weak, weak</em>. The words echoed in her brain, a mantra of failure. The line was hazy between hating him and fulfilling the duty of protecting him. </p>
<p>Whipping back to the tent she had set up she put herself to work, organizing and unpacking what they would need for the brief amount of time they’d sit on the lonely hillside. The weather was cool, a pleasant change from the pressing summer. She mused to herself at how long they’d be forced in hiding, whether or not she’d need the heavier clothes she had packed for winter. Or worse, would she see the light, linen summer fabric once more with little progress to show for the passing of time?</p>
<p>The tent was cozy, she had lit a few candles that had been charmed to melt but never give way their wicks. The two of their cots were set up on either side of the cozy space, a fabric curtain offering what little privacy it could. The one to her cot was drawn tightly, but Draco’s was left open so she could monitor him from the corner of her eye. </p>
<p>She wondered if he was smart enough to fake illness and lull her into a false sense of security. Wandless as he may be, there were muggle ways to kill someone you hated. Would he sneak up behind her and snap her neck the old fashioned way? Somehow that eluded the propriety she assumed Malfoy prided himself on, but she couldn’t be too careful. </p>
<p>In the center of their space was a wooden table with three chairs, a silent wish that Ron and Harry were with her. The Golden Trio unbroken. It filled her mouth with an unpleasant taste to look at.</p>
<p>The kitchen was just as demure as the rest of the space, it represented corners of her muggle kitchen at home. Warm, cozy, mugs hanging from a rack above a makeshift sink. All the comforts of home and yet only a bleak echo of the world she remembered. </p>
<p>Between the space of the two cots was a flap that could be zipped between the main area and the bathroom where she had a shower head charmed with hot water. It would run well and heavy with the tap of a hand, yet another part of the tent outfitted better for three than two. She hated the thought of showering close to Malfoy, it sent a shiver up her spine, but she could endure a little longer. The edges of her mind felt hazy and heavy, desperate to pull herself away from over thinking her new living arrangements - cozy as they may be she didn’t fancy “cozy” was a word she wanted to associate with Malfoy.  </p>
<p>Organizing the books she planned to devour during their current location was the only thing that seemed to put her mind at ease. She had a few ideas of places she needed to start, re-reading information on Horcruxes, historical texts, and a few reference books from DADA she figured couldn’t hurt to review. She stacked them neatly on the kitchen table, tapping each spine as she confirmed this week’s menu of information. </p>
<p>The idea of leaving Malfoy on his own in the first weeks loomed against her. The entire plan had been to try and find Harry and Ron, but she felt tethered to the Slytherin still sleeping soundly. If she left him would he bolt against his better judgment, preferring Voldemort to her? Would she have failed the Order by losing him so quickly, or would she feel relieved to no longer be responsible? It was hard to tell. She figured it couldn’t hurt to wait until he was well enough to broach the subject of her leaving, at least then she could attempt a somewhat civilized conversation. <em>Wishful thinking. </em></p>
<p>Turning back to look over her shoulder at him she noticed him moving in his sleep, restless. The even breathing from before had turned labored and she knitted her eyebrows together in concern and approached him once more. </p>
<p>His body had started sweating, he had a sickly shine to him and his clothes were damp. His white blonde hair was matted to his forehead and she couldn’t help feel that same feeling she had the first time she saw him hunched in the hidden room of Azkaban. Pity. </p>
<p>She leaned down and swept the back of her palm against his forehead, frowning at the warmth. He had a fever. Casting a quick diagnostic spell over him, it was easy to see that the months in Azkaban had not been kind to him. She wondered where the strength to bicker with her had come from, rolling her eyes. Leave it to a Malfoy to be energized off spite alone. She flicked her wand over the diagnostic panels, skimming the information quickly. She had gotten used to healing magic with friends like Harry and Ron, basic medicinal spells and potions not foreign to her. Reading Malfoy’s chart now showed deep, green marks spanning through his body with a concentration on his torso. She wondered if the dark mark was poisoning him or if it had been the Dementors, their proximity fracturing his body and soul.</p>
<p>The edges of her lips sat downward, unsure of how to help him. She remembered faintly that chocolate helped against Dementors, but she wasn’t sure she could force feed him any. </p>
<p>His eyes squinted open, “Don’t start feeling bad for me now, Granger.” </p>
<p>“Didn’t think you were awake.”</p>
<p>He let out a harsh gasp of air that might’ve been a laugh. “I’ll heal.”</p>
<p>She tapped her wand in the air and his diagnostic panel fell back within his body. “You’re unwell.”</p>
<p>“Can’t even riddle out why?” Another short burst of air. “Thought you were supposed to be smart.” His voice was gravelly and deep, as if it hurt to speak.</p>
<p>“I can take a few educated guesses.” She stood to full height and looked down at him placidly as his eyes closed again, labored breathing rising through his chest cavity. “I don’t think I can help you, though.” <em>I don’t understand dark magic. </em></p>
<p>“Wouldn’t want you to try.” He turned his head away from her, her eyes studying his profile.. Sharp nose and cheekbones slanted down, the dim light of the tent fluttering softly against hard features. </p>
<p>Catching her lip between her teeth she wondered if he had fallen back asleep or if he was just lying in wait for her next movement. </p>
<p>“Leave me alone, Granger.” He grit out between sharp teeth. </p>
<p>“You have a fever, Malfoy.” She ran a hand through her hair, large curls flopping back down to her cheeks. </p>
<p>“Pity doesn’t suit you, Granger.” An echo of his words from the afternoon. Had it only been a matter of hours? </p>
<p>“Original.” The word left her in a whisper. She wondered softly if pity did in fact suit her, it was the most intense emotion rattling around her ribcage. She felt it paint each of her features, her movements heavy with the concern that bled from her. The skin on her neck prickled. “Try not to die.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t rob you of the fun of killing me.” A ghost of a smile flitted on his features before they crashed again. </p>
<p>“Always a gentleman.” She bit on her response bitterly as she turned back to face her new home. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p><br/>Leaning deeply on the kitchen table, she fiddled with the dials of the radio. Glancing behind her to make sure she didn’t wake him, she heard flashes of music and voices until she landed on the news channel.</p>
<p>Only half listening, she glanced back down at the open book underneath her elbow. She picked at the cuff of her sweater, cozier than the formal robes she had worn to Azkaban. She had changed quickly in the makeshift bathroom, panicked that he might wake and search for her. She blushed all the way to the tops of her shoulders at the thought, haphazardly pulling up jeans and tugging on the sweater while holding her breath in a reaction that never came. </p>
<p>She thumbed the edge of her mug, a half cup of tea growing colder every minute. She chewed again at her lip, it was growing pink and raw and she made a mental note to heal it later tonight when she was in front of the mirror.</p>
<p>The voices from the radio felt comforting, it was nice to remember the world outside of her was still functioning. Students were returning to Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic hadn’t been infiltrated yet, everything was humming along under the pretense of normalcy. She wondered what her last year at school could’ve been, perhaps she would have been Head Girl. A ghost of herself living in another timeline hurried to the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony of new students.</p>
<p>She heard Malfoy groan and sit up, he made it no secret that he was awake. Shooting another glance over her shoulder she saw him rub at his eyes as if he had a headache. Resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands she wondered if he was in pain. I don’t care. She sniffed and turned back to her book and the radio.</p>
<p>“Turn that shit off. My head’s pounding.” </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Christ, Granger, do you get off being a bitch?” His words gripped her, intent to hurt. She shrugged her shoulders.</p>
<p>“I want to hear what’s going on.” </p>
<p>He walked towards her, his feet heavy and dragging. She counted how many steps it took to reach her, eyes focused firmly on the text below her. He collapsed in the chair in front of her, the sweat on him had dried but the pink of a fever still stained his alabaster skin. It was better than the pale, grey complexion from before. His eyes looked glassy and unfocused. “What could they possibly tell you that you don’t know?”</p>
<p><em>Where Harry and Ron are. If they’re alive. If my family is safe.</em> “Nothing, I suppose.” She turned her gaze up to face him fully now. “How’re you feeling?”</p>
<p>“Shit.” </p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “Your vocabulary astounds me.” </p>
<p>He grimaced but didn’t respond, too tired to argue. </p>
<p>“You’ll probably be sick for a while.” She closed the book in front of her, tucking a bookmark delicately between its pages. “I decided it couldn’t hurt to read on the symptoms of prolonged Dementor exposure. It won’t kill you-”</p>
<p>“Lovely.”</p>
<p>“But it’ll take a while to feel like yourself.”</p>
<p>He ran his long fingers through his hair, it falling back down to his face. He glanced around, as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. “Where the hell are we?”</p>
<p>“I packed it all. I kind of figured this year wouldn’t be like others.”  She twisted her fingers together, uncomfortable with the winding conversation unfolding between them. “I suppose I didn’t realize just how different this year would be.”</p>
<p>His jaw was set and she could see the tick of muscle at the junction of neck and ear. “Yeah… me neither.” <em>No smart retort? Wow, you must be ill.</em> She thought dryly.</p>
<p>The silence between them felt like pressure, growing until it would pop. Hermione reached for the dial of the radio and fiddled with it, ignoring the way Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed at the spike in sound. </p>
<p>
  <strong>And now, we have an urgent update. Breaking news. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Draco Malfoy, known Death Eater and found guilty for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, escaped Azkaban early this afternoon.</strong>
</p>
<p>Suddenly the small movements stopped between them and they froze, each set of eyes wide and unblinking. </p>
<p>
  <strong>All that is known at this time is his last visitor was Hermione Granger, well known for her support of Harry Potter. </strong>
</p>
<p><em>Bugger</em>. The pristine signature in the attendance log winked in her mind’s eye. Clean, even letters mocking her even now.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Ms. Granger is presumed kidnapped or dead. There are no remains of her visit, and the only guard attending her at the time has confirmed she did not leave the building on her own accord.  </strong>
</p>
<p>The world fell away in that moment. </p>
<p>
  <strong>A spokesperson for Azkaban has confirmed that the Dementors have been tasked with bringing Draco Malfoy back and realizing the fate of Ms. Granger. A subsequent hearing will take place to account for any additional charges against Draco Malfoy. Please, be on the lookout for helpful information. If you or someone you know have valuable information, please reach out- </strong>
</p>
<p>Their eyes met each other and the rest of the announcement died on her ears. </p>
<p><em>Dead</em>. </p>
<p>She brushed a shaky hand up to her eyes to banish the tears pricking at her eyelashes. </p>
<p>“They think I <em>killed</em> you?” </p>
<p>“Or kidnapped.” She offered weakly, wondering which was better. She forced her tea to her lips and took a deep gulp, it tasted like nothing. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm enjoying writing this, I have a lot of plans for how I want this to pan out. I know that the way they escaped Azkaban might've been a bit hard to believe, but there are a few reasons I wanted it to be simple and to keep Hermione's name somehow tethered to the escape. I hope this helps a little bit!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope this chapter finds you well &lt;3</p>
<p>I'm moving soon, so my uploading schedule may be a bit off- but I have quite a few chapters mapped out that just need some editing so I'll do my best!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
They sat, unblinking, in silence as the radio’s voices flooded the air between them. The words held no weight and dropped lifelessly to the floor. Hermione could hardly bare to breathe, her lungs tight and her eyes flitting over his face. His pointed features were tense, unyielding. Ashen skin ticked away furiously with pulse. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, so hard she wondered if he’d splinter it, but he made no move to turn the radio off. The pressure between them bloomed and Hermione could hardly breathe as time ticked on, the air too heavy and stale - it was suffocating her. As if the radio was what held her breath, she snatched it from between them and furiously lowered the volume, breathing out a hiss. </p>
<p>She drunk in air, her shoulders rising and falling from the effort. Their eyes lifted to one another, brown met grey.</p>
<p>He was the first to speak. “What the fuck is your Order playing at?” His voice gave way to a tremble, jaw ticking away.</p>
<p>Still clutching at the radio, she thumbed the ridged edges of it’s dials. <em>I don’t know</em>. “They know what they’re doing.” She feigned confidence and ripped her eyes away from him to stare at the dead space between them. She counted the loops of years in the wood as if it would stop the nagging in her gut. </p>
<p>A cruel laugh escaped him and it raked across her, her face flinching at the harsh sound. “Please, Granger, tell me you’re joking. Even you can’t be daft enough to think-”</p>
<p>She cut him off, “I don’t think, I know.” She lied confidently. “They know what to do to protect us, and if this is how we best stay hidden then we trust it.” </p>
<p>“You can’t be serious.” </p>
<p>“Deadly.” She warned him to press her, sharpening her focus on him. He bristled back at her and she was suddenly grateful for the weight of both their wands at her side. Her lips curled as she muttered, “This isn’t some holiday, Malfoy. This is war and every move is calculated.”</p>
<p>“Right, right.” He shrugged his shoulders in a play of calmness, his eyes storming even as he dropped his features. “That’s how you ended up without Potter and Weasle, yeah?” It was her turn to bristle back at him, eyes shooting daggers across the table. If looks could kill she was sure it would be her locked up in Azkaban and him walking free. A languid, confident smile graced his face, “Have I hit a nerve?” </p>
<p>“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“Like you do?” He leaned forward, cruelty tugging at his smile. “Did they leave you? Didn’t need the third?”</p>
<p>Hermione’s pupils squeezed to pinpricks as she fought the immediate urge to throw a curse at him. A harmful curse, the kind that cut. </p>
<p>“They didn’t leave me.” Her words were measured, succinct, and her voice shuddered with each syllable. </p>
<p>A gloating grin finally reached his eyes, “Knew it.”</p>
<p>“They didn’t have a choice.” Hermione sputtered the words more for her sake than his. “Your lot crashed the wedding and they didn’t have time. So I guess I can blame your mum and dad for this, can’t I? Since they were there.” </p>
<p>All joy died from his face and he set his jaw hard. The grip on the table returned, the wood crying out softly. </p>
<p>Hermione’s stomach whirled and churned within her, questions unspoken and hatred swallowed down. A wave of sick rolled over her, a feeling of unease dripping down her spine. Her questions, the questions meant for McGonagall, for Harry, for anyone, sat neatly cataloged in the back of her mind. For later.</p>
<p>If later ever came. </p>
<p>“Look, McGonagall-”</p>
<p>It was his turn to cut her off, “McGonagall?” His voice was almost hysterical. “That old bitch? That’s who you’re listening to?” He rubbed his face on his hands, too tired to look at her. “Merlin, we’re doomed.” </p>
<p>“Don’t call her-”</p>
<p>“How would she know I didn’t Avada Dumbledore? How? The only people on that tower were-</p>
<p>“<em>Someone</em> was there.” Hermione’s eyes locked on him. </p>
<p>He did his best not to lose momentum even as his brows creased, “How would she know how to break me out of Azkaban? How would she have my wand? How would she know the Dementors would be faithful to-” his voice hitched, “-him.” </p>
<p>Hermione shook her head softly, small tendrils of hair falling from behind her ear. “I don’t know.” </p>
<p>“And she fucking sent you, Potter’s Golden Girl, to break me out of prison and keep me hidden.” </p>
<p>That bloody nickname again poured petrol on her anger, reigniting her. She burned hot and steady, face flushing pink with rage. “Obviously.” </p>
<p>“Shows how much she thinks of you.” He didn’t take notice of her boiling point as he continued on, fingers pushing back stray locks of white blonde hair as he did. “And you <em>just did it?</em> Pathetic.”  The last word he practically spat at her. </p>
<p>“I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you, Malfoy. I don’t have the luxury to question and think on every choice the Order makes, that kind of free time is usually reserved for someone in prison.” She bit on the last word hard. </p>
<p>He bit on his own rebuttal and just muttered, “You trust the wrong people.”</p>
<p>“Really, you’re going to lecture me on who to trust? That’s rich coming from you.” She gripped the table just as he did now, her knuckles white and creaking from the strain of it. “All you need is for them to put on a hood, right?”</p>
<p>“You don’t know-”</p>
<p>“I didn’t let He Who Shall Not Be Named sign me like a cast.” Her words felt venomous as they left her lips. </p>
<p>“No, you did one better - you became useless to a Weasley. How’d you manage that?” </p>
<p>The two of them sat with eyes glued on the other, tension sparking between them again. Hermione’s fingertips shook and Malfoy gnashed his teeth together so hard she was sure she would hear them crack under the strain. Each of their eyes warned the other not to provoke, as if the person who lashed out first would be a fool for not knowing what was to come. </p>
<p>Draco spoke first, ripping through the silence. “So it’s supposed to look like I’ve killed you.” </p>
<p>“Or kidnapped.” </p>
<p>The silence weighed against them once more, pressing on their bodies as they tried not to relent to the litany of insults they wanted to throw at one another. </p>
<p>“I really thought you’d jump for joy at the news of my death, Malfoy.” Sarcasm soaked through her well placed words. “Now you can run back to mummy and daddy and say you did something right.” She felt her face drawn tight, pinched. “They can even search your memory of it for proof. I’m sure you can conjure up some day dream of stringing me up like the others.” Her voice was hot and her muscles taught. “Convince them.”</p>
<p>“You’re walking on thin ice, Granger.” His body pushed forward on the table, hands moving to splay beneath him as he began to stand. He towered over her, looming, no longer only a shadow of himself.</p>
<p>“Maybe they’ll even throw you a welcome home party.” A bitter smile ghosted her mouth, the corners neither raising nor lowering. “I won’t hold my breath for an invite.” She raised her still cold, forgotten tea to her lips and tried not to grimace as she took a sip, feigning indifference. </p>
<p>“I’m warning you.” He cracked his knuckles against the wood, the popping sound jarring. Hermione did her best not to wince. She could see the mapping of blue veins on the top of each hand, prominent and thrumming.  </p>
<p>She did her best to smile at him, hollow of emotion. “You don’t scare me Malfoy.”</p>
<p>“I did.” He watched her dangerously, voice low. </p>
<p>“You’re nothing more than a boy.” </p>
<p>Hatred radiated off him in waves, “Thought you were supposed to be smart.” His tongue ticked against his glinting teeth. </p>
<p>“I’m the most perceptive and logical witch of our age. And you, Malfoy, do not scare me.” She enunciated each syllable, dropping them like heavy stones in a clear pond. </p>
<p>Time suddenly moved quickly as his hand snatched across the table, gripping her harshly by the chin. The tea spilled between them, the gentle patter of it as it dripped on the floor the only sound as Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and her breathing stopped. </p>
<p>He pulled her close to him, her back angled sharply and her jaw jutting towards him. Her first reaction was to pull back from him, but he held fast and her head only bobbed softly. Angry, hard fingers dug deeply into the soft flesh of her cheeks and she let out a yelp. Her hands scrabbled on the pane of the table to try and push herself up, away, anywhere away from him - but he had her in a steady grip. </p>
<p>“I’d be careful, Granger.” His breath puffed over her face in hot bursts. “That tight leash they’ve got you on is starting to look like a noose.” He sneered at her, judgmental eyes glinting. He turned her face to the left as if regarding her. “Actually, let yourself hang. I’d quite enjoy that.” She could hear his smile. </p>
<p>“You’re disgusting.” Hermione tried to wrench her face away from his grip again, but he dug his fingers deeper into her jaw. Her mouth puckered as she grimaced, words stuck in the back of her throat. He turned her face back to look squarely at him. Muscle against bone ached at his unforgiving grip. </p>
<p>“Sacrificing yourself is disgusting.” His nose almost touched hers they were so close. She could see herself reflected in his eyes, flushed and pulling, while he remained cool. “Especially for your Order.”</p>
<p>“You aren’t capable of sacrifice.” She meant it as an insult, but he just chuckled. </p>
<p>“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” </p>
<p>Another hard wrench of her neck. “You’re a selfish bastard, Malfoy. A coward.” She worked her fingers to his grip, driving her fingernails into the space between her skin and his. “You have nothing worth dying for.” Her words came out as a hiss, bitter between her pinched lips. </p>
<p>Another smirk, her words holding less ammunition than she had hoped. “A wonderful problem to have.”</p>
<p>“Nothing worth living for.” She pried herself away and pulled back from him, bracing herself against the edge of the table. She rubbed her skin gingerly, deep red marks left from his fingertips. </p>
<p>“And you call this living?” He pulled his gaze away from her, unable to watch the way she held her jaw. His eyes, instead, trained on the ground. </p>
<p>“I forgot to ask you if this lifestyle suited you before I <em>broke-you-out-of-prison</em>.” Her words came as staccato, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Ungrateful prick.”</p>
<p>“Charming language, Golden Girl. Learn that from Weasle?”</p>
<p>Running a shaking hand through her hair, she took another step away from him. “I hate you.” She swallowed dryly. “I really hate you, Malfoy.” The words bled from her. “I hate that you’re here.”<em> It wasn’t supposed to be you. This was supposed to be us. </em></p>
<p>“Feeling’s mutual.” Suddenly bored, he sat back in his chair and leaned back. </p>
<p>“I hate that you keep calling me that sodding nickname.” </p>
<p>At this his face truly relaxed, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. It was hard to know what would anger or amuse him, which jabs he’d throw back and which slid off him like water. Too much wavered in the grey space between them. “What, you prefer Mudblood over Golden Girl?” </p>
<p>At that Hermoine let out a strangled, annoyed groan that was almost a shriek. She clutched her face, eyes squeezed shut “Is this how you kill me? You annoy me to death?” Her voice was small against her palms, tired. The wards placed so expertly lingered outside and hummed with her frustration, a testament to how she spent her evening before lugging the ungrateful Slytherin to bed. </p>
<p>
  <em>Should’ve left him outside, let him frost over. </em>
</p>
<p>“More fun than an Avada, don’t you think?” She could hear his cruel smirk and it made her teeth clack together. “Maybe you’ll beg for it.” </p>
<p>She whipped her face back up to him, eyes red rimmed with tears she would never cry. Not in front of him. “Does it make it easier for you if I beg?” Her fingers flitted over the marbling of where his fingertips held her cheeks. A ghost of him etched into her bone, it’d leave a bruise. </p>
<p>His bemused expression dropped, brows furrowed and cheeks hollow. Suddenly it was just Draco again, just a school bully, edges dulled and painless. The pink of his fever sat blotchy on his cheeks. </p>
<p>This was not the man who killed Dumbledore, this was the boy who fled. </p>
<p>Finally, he looked his age. Young and frightened. </p>
<p>“Or is it just better to kill people outright? Surprise them? Let them die with the shock it was you.” </p>
<p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about me.” He turned away from her, his jaw tense and pulsing. Sweat still shone at his collar in the dying light.</p>
<p>“Thank Merlin for that.” She took in a shaky breath, trying to steady the spiking emotions that threatened to betray her. Her voice wobbled. “I can think of no greater insult than to be accused of knowing you.” </p>
<p>He stood up faster than a wildfire whiz-bang, his face changing from pink to a deep red. His chair, the one Hermione supposed Harry might have sat in, fell behind him with a resounding crash. Hermione willed her eyes not to blink at the sound, determined to stand tall and unmoving before him. “I’m warning you, <em>Mudblood</em>.” Vitriol seethed from him, the joking was over. He took a step towards her, moving the table out of the way like it was nothing. The empty, rolling mug fell to the floor and splintered across the ground. </p>
<p>Hermione took another step back, palming the grip of her wand. </p>
<p>Draco pursued her, the space between them shrinking with each broad step he took towards her. </p>
<p>She pulled up her wand and angled it towards him, a warning for him to stop. His eyes snagged on the wand but he made no motion to stop his pursuit of her. </p>
<p>“Don’t do something stupid, Golden Gi-”</p>
<p>“Stupefy.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As this is a slow burn, I wanted a chapter of them arguing. I'm a big fan of making their path to love long but authentic, I don't think they'd begin liking one another just because they have to live together</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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